Escape 2
by voice of morgoth
Summary: The sequel nobody asked for to a story four years old, here's a sequel to escape, wherein Timmy and Vicky have been hiding in their new life for several years.
1. Chapter 1

"Are… are you sure you can find them?"

Timmy's father's voice was weak and defeated. Six months people have been looking for his son and that vile _thing_ that snatched him away, ensnaring his mind until he willfully fled with her. Six months of cops, television reports on the kidnapping, and constant questions. How could you let this happen? What kind of parent doesn't realize this is going on in his own house? And six months of harassing Timmy's friends. Everyone wanted to know where Timmy and Vicky might have gone. They wanted to know their favorite vacation spots, places they'd go to after school, but it was pointless.

Timmy's friends all said the same thing about after school, that Timmy and Vicky spent most of their time together. And the only place And the answer everyone gave on Timmy's favorite place was the beach. Of course he loved the beach! That doesn't mean he'd actually end up there. So many pointless questions. Most likely Vicky never even considered Timmy's opinion and dragged him off to the middle of nowhere to do… do things to him. Mr. Turner shivered at the thought, but regained his composure rather quickly. Now, with all other options gone, Timmy's father has come to the highest paying private detective he can afford.

"I'm sure of it." The man replies. "Only question is how long it will take… these cases might take several months or even years to deal with. I don't suppose you can pay me for that long can you?"

Timmy's father shook his head. "No, but we can afford you for five months. That's… that's all we have."

The old gruff detective with a scar on his face looked down at the two pictures of the pair. One, an innocent young boy warped by a monster. Two, a sadistic grinning menace he knew needed to be put down. He felt such disgust looking at her. More disgust than the drug dealer he once forcibly disappeared, more than that lady that he always saw beating her dog in the yard when she thought no one was looking. He had so many stories to tell, but he never could. _Damn cops wouldn't understand. Incompetent idiots just want more slave labor for their prisons. But these scum don't deserve to exist._

"Are you okay?" Timmy's dad asks. Frank Johnson is jerked from his thoughts. He rubs his forehead like he's having a migraine, and realizes just how high his temperature has gone. How angry he's become just thinking about this thing called Vicky.

"Sorry, just thinking about… how your kid was taken makes me angry beyond belief… I ain't gonna take your money. I'll find this bitch, and I'll get your son back too, no matter how long it takes."

"Thank… thank you, thank you!"

Timmy's father feels hope for the first time in months. He rapidly shakes Detective Johnson's hand as tears stream down his face. And Johnson, seeing the man's happiness, can only smile slightly himself. _I will find her. And I will make her bleed._

Timmy's father stands and begins to leave, but not before leaving two hundred dollar bills on the table. "I told you not to worry about money."

"I'm not." Timmy's dad says. "But doing this job for free won't pay the bills, take it."

Johnson smiles as he not-so-reluctantly accepts the money, knowing that despite his crusade, he still has rent to pay at the end of the month. As Detective Johnson watches Mr. Turner walk off faster and less hunched than he came in, Johnson vows to make this Vicky character pay dearly for what she's done.

The following days, the detective goes to interview people who knew Timmy the closest, Chester, A.J., and Tootie. They were small circle of friends that never even knew what was happening until Tootie told the police and anyone who would listen. But Johnson noticed something strange now. Chester wasn't much help, having given up hope on ever seeing his friend again, or even thinking Timmy would want to see him. A.J. told the man everything he could that might help and then some, including Timmy's favorite comic book,his birthday, his favorite food, and other pointless nonsense.

However, Tootie, the one who told in the first place, never said much more than her story to the cops. She saw them, she tried to help Timmy, and he ran off. She refuses to open up about her sister. Is she frightened of what her sister might do, like her parents, who didn't even know their daughter's true madness because she bullied them out of her life? Or is it something else? A change of heart?

 _How does one even change their heart from this?_ The detective thinks. _Maybe she's just as horrible as her sister and only spilled the beans to piss her off, not realizing how far it would escalate._

As the various theories and ideas bubble in the vigilante detective's head, Tootie awkwardly shifts in her seat. She sees the fierce vigilance in his eyes, unlike the tired and bored police and story-obsessed reporters. She knows he sees that she's hiding something from him. Information that may lead to Vicky's whereabouts.

"Well, thank you for your time, Tootie, Chester, A.J. I'll make sure I get justice for your friend."

"Yeah, right." Chester said mockingly.

"Thanks." A.J. says, even though he has the same dejected expression Chester has.

"Okay." Tootie says, looking away nervously from the man before turning back once she realizes she just gave away more weakness.

"Okay, I might need to ask some more questions later. Give me a call if you think of anything." Johnson says, giving each a business card before standing up from the table and walking away. Whatever happens, no matter how long it takes, Detective Frank Johnson vows to punish Vicky for her crimes and rescue Timmy from her clutches. The man walks out into the evening night as fireflies dance overhead. Timmy's been missing for six months, and Detective Frank Johnson vows to find him before the year's end.


	2. Chapter 2

The water is murky with salt, the waves crash overhead, and the sun is bright in the sky. It's the perfect day for a swim. Sadly for the pair of runaways, their hair dye hasn't set yet, and they aren't willing to risk the runoff into the water. With Vicky's ruby pink eyes being a rare enough occurrence, the matching fiery red hair would completely unmask them.

 _Does anyone else in her family even have pink demon eyes?_ Timmy thinks as he tans on the beach. Next to him is his ferocious girlfriend, the love of his life, and for whom he ran away from everyone else he knew, Vicky Valentine. He sometimes wonders if he should take her name later in life.

"So, Vic… I mean sis, what are we doing for lunch?" Timmy asks.

"I was thinking… sushi? That Japanese place down the street seems nice. Or maybe shrimp? Let's get shrimp. And lobster. I want some seafood."

"Yeah. I could go for some seafood too."

"Then go get it, the water's right there."

Timmy laughs. It's been so long since he's felt relief. He worried constantly over the last three years, wondering at what point they might be found out, but his worries fade every day spent at ease with Vicky. Every day someone meets the pair and goes on with their lives, none the wiser to the hidden truth.

After a day well spent, the pair returns to the hotel. After a few more days, they would have to return to their life on the lamb. Most days were not so luxurious. Contrary to their fantasy of a life on the run, living under fake identities didn't always give them the most happiness. They had to maintain cover and couldn't spend too much of Vicky's ill-gotten gains, drug money she ripped off from some high-level dealer back in Dimmsdale. Their sob story of drug-addled parents they fled from with whatever scraps of money they could gain wouldn't work if they lived like a king and queen every other day.

The only job Vicky could get at the moment was cheap labor and a part-time cashier back home. Timmy earned some small savings from helping clean around the apartment complex, only enough to stay afloat and minimize the cash they took out of their life savings. But together, it would was worth the price.

"So Vicks, can I call you Vicks?"

"Only if you want me to leave you." Vicky jokes.

"Okay, Vicks. I'm gonna study a little more. I need to ace the test."

"You literally don't. You can take it a hundred times, remember? You don't have school anymore."

"Still want to do great on it."

After returning to the hotel, Timmy starts studying his calculus and chemistry. He didn't go to school anymore, but he kept up enough studies at home making sure he didn't fall behind. But with so much free time and so little hobbies, he's advanced well beyond his peers in the field, and almost ready to study at a college level. Timmy starts falling lower and lower into the bed as the hours pass, with Vicky watching the television silently as Timmy lazily jots down notes. Soon the pair is ready for bed.

Vicky snuggles in closer to her blonde lover. On these days, when they were intimate, she missed his old look. The brown hair, the pink clothes that she enjoyed ripping off. Timmy looks up, meeting her gaze. Pink and shining. He smiles, beaming brightly as always.

"So, you're going to be seventeen soon. Want anything for your birthday?" Vicky asks.

"That takes away the surprise, doesn't it?"

"Who cares?"

Timmy smirks as he closes the distance, snuggling in for the night. Vicky turns off the light as the pair starts falling asleep. But something is eating away at him. There's something he wants to do that could prove dangerous.

"I was wondering…" Timmy starts. He takes a deep breath.

"I… I was… wondering if I could call them. Mom and Dad, I mean. Just a couple minutes, then leave."

Vicky looks over at him. Even though he sacrificed everything to be with her, the fact that they had no one but each other sometimes hurt them both. And the fact that he hasn't seen or spoken to his parents in almost three years was gnawing at him. He wanted to see them again. Even if all they did was yell and argue, he wanted to at least hear their voices. Still, he wouldn't force the issue with Vicky. She knew all the risks in her head and was assessing if what Timmy wanted was possible or too dangerous to try.

"Yeah. We'll have a chat with them tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

Timmy tosses and rolls in the waves with Vicky. She laughs her heavenly, seductive laugh as he bobs up and down with the setting sun giving her the appearance of a radiant fire spirit. The scene is like out of a cheesy romantic comedy or a hallmark commercial. He knows how absurd it is. How she'll feel embarrassed at how utterly cliché their day is later. And he smiles, knowing she'll love it just the same. She inches closer to him in the waves.

"So, you want to take this fun back to the hotel, my twerp?"

"Yeah." he says, lost in Vicky's blazing eyes. Timmy and Vicky leave the ocean, walking back from the beach. Vicky creeps up and tassels his hair, which has settled into a nice blonde.

"You know, sometimes it sucks not seeing your cute brown hair."

"Same. I miss that fiery red menace." Timmy replies.

"Well, not all of my red hair is dyed." Vicky says suggestively.

Timmy giggles as Vicky drags him closer, snickering as he squirms, attempting not to become erect with so many people around. The two hurry up to the boardwalk and approach one of the few working payphones in the city. They know cellphones can be traced even when they aren't on, providing a nice little map of everywhere Vicky and he have been. Even so, with the quarters in his hand, he hesitates. He hesitates because he knows that tears, shouting, and all sorts of swears could go flying once he makes the call, not mentioning the fact that anyone else might be listening.

"Go for it." Vicky says.

"Wha?" Timmy replies, torn from his thoughts.

"If you don't do this, you'll feel like shit. So go on."

Timmy gulps nervously, takes a deep breath, and then puts the quarters in the machine. He dials the number of the house he grew up in, hoping his parents are still there, and waits. Seconds pass like minutes as Vicky keeps an eye out for any questioning gazes. Soon Timmy hears a familiar voice on the other end.

"Uh… Turner residence." Timmy's father says. Even through the static, Timmy recognizes his father's voice. He sounds like nothing's changed, like he's having the time of the world with Timmy gone.

 _Maybe I should just hang up… no, he does care. He yelled and screamed and fell apart… But I'm just bringing more pain._

Vicky nudges Timmy to get him to respond.

"Hey, it's me." Timmy says.

"Who is this?" his father asks. He doesn't know my voice. He doesn't even know my own voice anymore.

"It's… it's Timmy." The phone clicks. He hung up on Timmy, his only son, after three years.

"He… he hung up on me." Timmy says, voice trembling. Vicky moves in closer and holds him tight. "He probably thought it was a crank call. I mean, a horrible news story attracts the biggest assholes. Five years ago, I'd do the same thing."

"Christ." Timmy mutters before putting more change in and calling back. No answer. He tries again, and all he receives is silence. He calls one more time and finally his father picks up on the other end.

"Stop bugging me." His father says.

"I'm not. When I was nine, you got me two goldfish for my birthday. Last time I was there they were alive. One with green eyes and one with pink eyes. They never seemed to age, funny enough. When I was ten, you and mom hired Vicky. She got me pizza with anchovies on the first day, and the first time we dated. Now it's one of my favorite toppings."

"Huh… wha?" Timmy's father mumbles on the other end, trying to make sense of what he's being told. Something he's dreamed of both pleasantly and in nightmares is finally happening; his son is calling him.

"Vicky and I got stuck in a cave up at the ski resort almost a year after she showed up. I… I realized she was hiding something. That's… that's when our lives changed."

"Timmy… why… why are you calling now?"

"I… needed to hear your voice."

For a moment both are quiet, save for sniffles and choked sobs. Timmy presses up against the phone, turning to look at the ocean waves. Then father finally speaks again. "She… how did you get away from her?"

"I didn't. We're both at the… we're on vacation. I wanted to call, so I called."

"You… you wanted to call?" his father replies, dumbfounded at how easy Timmy makes everything sound.

"It was me, okay?" Timmy confesses. "Vicky shut me out, but I didn't want her to shut me out. I pushed my way in because I thought… I thought she was beautiful."

The word slipped out and now hung in the air. Beautiful. That cruel smiling monster the Turners turned a blind eye to just because they wanted to get away from their miserable lives. The one that came out as a monster far too late for them to keep away from their son. Beautiful. How could that thing be beautiful?

"What?!" he says with a raised voice. The anger at what Vicky did, and the obliviousness Timmy shows drives into him, makes him question how his son can simply be so casual. Brainwashed? Did he purposefully throw away his life with family just for that monster?

"Just… how? How can you be so easy with this?"

"Easy? You think this is easy?" Timmy says, disbelief plain in his voice. He chuckles slightly as he sniffles.

"I didn't think 'hey, let's run away and start a life with nothing to our name, it'll be fun!' It hurt. It hurt fucking bad. But I had to choose. And I chose Vicky."

"You… you chose?!"

"Yes, okay." Timmy states firmly. "She didn't kidnap me or whatever the hell the news said. She threw a rock through my window with a note to meet up. I could have given it to you, or the police, or that dumb therapist, but I didn't. I ripped the note up and met where Vicky said she'd be. I chose her over everything else."

"How… just… fuck…"

The two become silent again, neither sure how to proceed. Timmy's father wonders if he should call the police, or maybe that detective, or one of Timmy's old friends. To try and get him to come to his senses. He was abused, wasn't he? His skin was all marked up because Vicky dug her nails into Timmy's skin, shredding apart his innocence piece by piece. And he sounds like what happened was perfectly normal.

"How can you love her?" his father asks. Vicky grunts, apparently having heard his remark or simply getting slightly bored. A seagull screeches overhead before coming into a landing. As the bird starts picking through an open garbage can, Timmy tries to explain the only way he can. Explain exactly why he loves the person most everyone else in his life hated. "I love her because she's Vicky. Same reasons everyone else is afraid of her."

His father releases a low whimper, growling slightly as hate mixes with fear and confusion. He's entirely in disbelief that his son could defend Vicky. But he still tries to persuade his son. "You have to come home, Timmy. You… you have to."

"I can't. They'd… they'd lock her up, treat her like shit."

"She deserves it! How are you defending her?!" he shouts suddenly.

"I told you before, I ain't leaving." Timmy says calmly. "Maybe… in a couple of years we'll meet up again. But not now. Please don't call the cops. They'd just fuck everything up."

"She hurt you! How… god damn it."

Timmy begins crying again as he hangs the phone up. "You done?" Vicky asks. Timmy nods, and the pair begin to leave. His father, though, is panicked and rushing to call his ex-wife. But before he hits send, he instead remembers that one detective. The trace ran cold about a year ago, but now he has something that the private eye likely doesn't know. After the phone rings three times, he picks up. The gruff detective's voice answers "Hey, Detective Frank Johnson here."

"It's me. Timmy called."

There is silence for several seconds before Frank can register what he's heard. "Wait, Mr. Turner?"

"Yes."

"Timmy called? Where?"

"I don't know. He-he just wanted to talk, he said. Just wanted to hear my voice. Christ."

"Did he give you any hints as to where he was?"

"No… just, I heard a seagull, if that helps."

"Not really. Stupid birds are everywhere. Parking lots, cities, almost everywhere but the sea."

"Shit…" he sputters, clenching his fists and ready to punch the wall.

"Hey, this still gives us something to work with… did you call the cops?"

"I… no. I don't want them involved. I don't want them ripping this family apart more than it already is… I just… I just want Timmy back home and safe."

"I do too… has he called any of his friends?"

"I don't think so. Shit, how would I even know? They don't know me, their parents barely tell me anything anymore. They've all moved on. Last I checked, his friends planning to go on vacation to Timmy's favorite beach."

"Favorite?"

"Yeah. He liked this arcade over there with all the old video games. Him and his video games."

Mr. Turner feels a smidge of nostalgia amidst the sorrow, remembering how they would go every summer to that one special beach once a month. Sometimes more. In the end, the Turners used vacations as a way to escape from their issues, figured that if they simply relaxed everything would magically fix itself. And the last few times, Vicky would be there with them. "Vicky." he says to himself, coming to a realization. The thing both her and Timmy seemed to enjoy the most was that absurd money wasting arcade. And judging by Timmy's words, he wasn't as much of a prisoner as everyone thought.

"I… I think Timmy might be there." Timmy's dad says. "Vicky always enjoyed the beach too… and that arcade. The last time when Timmy was thirteen they spent nearly the entire time there…"

"… You know, they might just be there." Detective Johnson replies. He remembers Tootie's behavior. She seemed to be involved, yet nothing came of his suspicions before. But now, it seems, the trail has been picked up again. _I've been thinking so much about what to do to Vicky. I've practiced on plenty more assholes in the meantime. Maybe it's finally time to lay this one to rest._


	4. Chapter 4

Timmy hangs up the phone, with a heavy silence in the air. He turns around to meet Vicky's eyes and buries any sadness he feels, smiling hopefully at her.

"You done?"

"Yeah." he says with a nod. "We should probably get our bags packed and ready to leave. Just in case, you know."

"Don't need the cops looking for us everywhere."

Timmy and Vicky move down the boardwalk back to the hotel, basking in the night life offered to the tourists. The pair passes a nearby bar, sprawling with dancing couples and a few drunken buffoons by themselves.

"Hey, want to go get drunk?" Timmy asks jokingly.

"Not unless you want me to breakup with you."

"Ouch. Beat still my heart."

Vicky rolls her eyes as the pair continues back to their hotel. They sneak in the side entrance to avoid as much people as possible. They're close to their sanctuary, away from any prying eyes or thoughtful witnesses. And as they walk up the stairs to the third floor, Timmy sees her. The one person in the world he never wanted to see again. The possibilities of ever being in the same city as her were astronomically small. The fact that they've met in the same hotel makes Timmy think that there is some evil force out there. A cruel prankster who only wants to fuck him over.

Dr. Vale, the psychiatrist appointed to help Timmy, the one who revealed his secrets to the police, walks down the stairs. She fiddles with a pack of cigarettes, oblivious to how close she is to Timmy. Oblivious of the ones that became her greatest failure, the ones who cost Vale her job, are right beside her. Timmy's clenched hand reveals the situation to Vicky. She knows that the person who just walked past could bring their world crashing down. Vicky turns her gaze away as Timmy looks down, shrinking away from Vale as she moves past. As if sensing the air becoming heavier, Vale pauses mid-step. Timmy and Vicky are already walking up the stairs. They can sense her prodding eyes. Timmy struggles to maintain his composure, to pretend that nothing's wrong. To pretend that he and Vicky have nothing to do with Vale. But Timmy trips on one of the steps, falling forward. Vicky grabs Timmy's arm and keeps him steady, meeting Vale's eyes for a fraction of a second. Vicky's noticeable pink eyes are seen clearly. Vale glares up at them. She follows them as they walk to their room. Vicky leads Timmy in, opening the door. But it remains open. Vale has the chance to run. To tell everyone exactly what has happened. Instead, she walks into the room, shutting the door behind her. She sits down in a chair across from the bed, seeing Vicky and Timmy waiting together. Vicky has one arm around Timmy, holding close. Timmy knows she's terrified. That she fears Vale could be the end of their relationship.

"You." Timmy says. His voice seems far too casual for what's happening. But Timmy knows he needs to stay calm. He needs to protect this love with everything he's got.

"Turner… what… what are you doing?"

"On vacation. We've got a week off."

Vale is silent with Timmy's defense. She wonders how he can pretend that his life is normal, that running away with someone like Vicky is sane.

"You… your parents." she mutters weakly.

"I've been with Vicky more than them…" Timmy says, threading his left hand through his hair and trying to maintain his composure. "I… I _love_ Vicky more than them. That doesn't mean I hate them, I just… I had to choose. And I chose Vicky. She threw a rock with a message through my window. Told me to meet somewhere. I could have told the cops. Could have told you. But I didn't. And I never would betray her."

Vale blinks twice in shock at Timmy's words. It finally begins to sink in. He wasn't kidnapped. He marched willingly into the spider's web. She's astonished at his words. And even Vicky herself is amazed at how composed Timmy is. She looks over at him with such fierce love in her eyes. Not simply lust, or sadism, but love. Vale begins to cry at the overwhelming emotions and confusion.

"Please don't say anything." Timmy says. "Seriously, this is our life. If we're caught, we'll run away again, but we probably won't have anything else. No home, no money. Just… forget this happened."

Vale nods after finally realizing the love Timmy and Vicky share. She doesn't understand it, not fully, but she knows it's real and not the delusions of a child and his abuser. Timmy's old enough now to have decided on his own. The ex-therapist takes a deep breath, with her hands rubbing down her face as she exhales shakily.

"I… I should go."

Dr. Vale begins to walk away, turning back one last time. "Take care of him. He's still just a teenager."

Timmy's old therapist leaves him and his lover to their lives together. After she's gone, Vicky wanders around the room, occasionally pausing and looking at their bags. They were going to leave in the morning. But now, with the potential that their old therapist is simply faking, or has a change of heart, Vicky is restless.

Timmy, still sitting on the bed, asks "what are you thinking?"

"Thinkin' we should go. Just in case she changes her mind."

The pair hastily pack their bags and leave the hotel.

"Should we leave? We can reschedule with Tootie." Timmy asks.

"We should be fine. We're meeting on the other side of the city, anyways. Don't suppose you want to spend the night in the car?"

"I'd rather do that then stay up trying to find a vacant room. Besides, we can save more money this way."

"Frugal. You are learning." Vicky says proudly, despite knowing they'll be in for a rough night. Vicky finds an empty parking spot and pulls in, pulling the seat down and closing her eyes.

"Night, twerp."

"Night, twat."

"Language."

"Sorry." he replies with a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ow."

"Stop whining, twerp." Vicky grumbles.

"My back is killing me. I had the worst night sleep in years."

"Me too, but you don't hear me constantly whining about it."

"But I do hear you whining about my whining, grumpy butt."

"You're the… buttface."

Vicky rolls her eyes. She _was_ grumpy. Grumpy from spending the night in the backseat of their car curled up in a ball, all so Timmy and her could keep their meeting with Tootie. Vicky stretches her back as she slides into the seat at the restaurant, pressing her back against the chair, arching her spine until the bones crackle and pop.

"Aw, yeah. That's the spot." she moans. After a few more minutes, Vicky's sister arrives.

"Holy crap." Timmy says as Tootie approaches. Her glasses are gone, replaced by contact lenses that fully reveal her beautiful brown eyes. She's wearing thigh high leggings and a skirt that perfectly complements her form, with a shirt that's almost too tight for her to be wearing.

"Stop staring at my sister, dork." Vicky says. Timmy shakes his head, banishing any potentially developing naughty thoughts about the Tootie's buxom figure.

"Don't worry, you're still hotter." Timmy jokes.

"Damn straight."

Tootie makes her way over to the pair as Timmy sheepishly rubs the back of his head.

"Hi guys!" Tootie squeals happily. The manic pixy teen pulls up a chair.

"So Toots, how's it hanging?" Vicky asks.

"Pretty good. Managed to convince A.J. and Chester I was feeling sick. Kind of feel bad since it's our last day, but hey, if it gives me time to hang out with you guys it's fine."

"I see you're becoming a pretty good liar, huh, sis?"

Tootie looks away ashamedly. Vicky cackles lightly at her sister's guilty expression. It always amuses her to see goody two shoes give in to darker impulses.

"It's my fault we're meeting like this." Tootie says suddenly. The three are silent for many awkward seconds after. Talking about the past was never a happy conversation with them. Then Vicky blows a raspberry.

"Don't sweat it, sis. All water under the bridge."

Tootie chuckles nervously. Hear she was again, apologizing after almost ruining her sister's life.

"So what are you doing now, Timmy?" Tootie asks.

"Same old, same old. Studying, and I'm hoping to get a better job. Kissing the landlord's butt for cheaper rent gets old."

Tootie laughs. And then she apologizes again. Suddenly Timmy realizes that he's just made Tootie feel guilty again.

"Hey, come one. It's okay." Timmy responds. "I was just making light of my landlord's butt. She's got a pretty big butt."

Tootie giggles slightly as Vicky rolls her eyes, taking her glass of water up and sipping. Then Timmy looks over at Vicky with big puppy dog eyes.

"But don't worry, Vicky. Your butt's the biggest."

Vicky chokes back water as she laughs, dribbling over her shirt as Tootie laughs.

"You're going to regret that later, twerp."

"Ha. So Tootie, how are Chester and A.J.?"

"Chester's, well, Chester. Dad's probably a marijuana pusher, and he sometimes comes to school with bloodshot eyes."

"Don't take any of that shit he offers." Vicky says protectively.

"Aw, thanks, you do care."

Vicky grunts as a response to cover up her sisterly nature.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm not dumb enough to try that stuff. A.J. isn't either. He's actually studying to become a doctor. At college level!"

Timmy chokes on water as Vicky's eyes bulge open.

"Seriously?" Vicky asks.

"Yeah. He's working with a vet this summer. Could be graduating before he's twenty with that giant math brain of his."

"Nice." Timmy replies.

The friends chat for the few precious moments they have before their lives separate again. Vicky maintains her laid back exterior, but Timmy can tell that she's happy. Her smile is brighter, and a heavy air seems to have been lifted. Meeting Tootie again has cheered up the usually irate redhead. Finally, have an hour and some minutes, Tootie takes her leave, apologizing again for dragging the couple into this situation. Vicky and Timmy head back to their car. Vicky plops into the driver's seat while Timmy leans back in the passenger side. The ride home is quiet, with Vicky keeping her attention on driving as Timmy buries himself in his phone.

"Do you think my parents will ever come around?" Timmy asks.

Vicky keeps her eyes on the road ahead, never looking back as usual. Never caring about the car coming from behind on the long, dusty road back home. After a few moments she replies.

"Doubt it. They don't seem the forgiving type."

"Yeah." Timmy sighs. He knows how difficult it is to accept. He couldn't imagine how he'd react to his own kids in such a situation. Then he shakes the thought of being a parent from his head.

 _Kids? You can't have kids yet. At least a real job first._

As the pair drive through the night, they fail to realize that a mad man with a grudge against their very existence is following them all the way home. Detective Frank Johnson followed Tootie to the beach. He kept his eye on the hotel she was staying at and by cruel chance, saw her leaving long after her friends had gone to the beach without her. He followed her down to the restaurant, and now he's closing in on Timmy and Vicky like a wolf stalking its prey.

"Gonna teach that psycho bitch some manners. Make her scream."


	6. Chapter 6

It's early morning by the time they return home, up in southern Oregon. It's a small one bedroom apartment, with a cracked window and some neighbors rough around the edge and a few stays in county jail. Sometimes Timmy misses his bed. His old home. Soft, a whole room all to himself, and all his games. But those days are farther and farther apart now. He realizes that what he has is far better than he could ever have hoped it could be. Somehow, beyond all reason, Vicky and he have made it work.

"Make sure to fix the landlord's car tomorrow, twerp. Get a few bucks knocked off the rent. " Vicky says.

"I will." he replies. As the couple settles in for the night, Frank Johnson, seasoned detective with a hobby in vigilante killing, pulls up to their little apartment. The mad man steps out of his car and drops a cigarette on the ground, stomping the spent rollup into the asphalt. He's ready to bring Timmy Turner back, and put an end to the life of Vicky.

"I'll make sure she screams as much as Timmy did. As much as his parents did."

Detective Johnson takes out several keys and small metal hooks. His expertise at picking the locks allows him easy access into Vicky's and Timmy's home. He stealthily weaves his way through the small living room, past the kitchen, and approaches the bedroom. He can see the pair so easily. But he needs Vicky alone. He waits silently for nearly an hour. Finally, Vicky wakes up. Vicky rubs her eyes and looks down at Timmy with a smile. The expression of love simply disgusts the detective further. Vicky maneuvers her out of the bed so she doesn't wake Timmy, and starts heading for the kitchen. Johnson moves beside the door as she passes, and is soon behind her. He keeps a safe distance, knowing she could prove faster and stronger than she appears. She fetches a cheap plastic cup and turns the faucet on, getting a cup of water.

"Vicky Valentine." He whispers. She drops the plastic cup, spilling water all over the floor. She turns around and glares at the intruder.

"What do _you_ want?" she hisses, hiding her fear behind cold eyes. All she receives is a vicious smirk. The same kind she often wears. Now her fear is rising. Rising further than it's been in a long time. The last time she felt this way, her sister had discovered the love between her and Timmy. The first time, she had discovered her own feelings for the sweet blue eyed boy. Her legs begin to shake. She doesn't know if this man wants to rape her or simply kill her, but the only thing she says is "Don't hurt Timmy." Detective Johnson drops his malicious grin. He seems dumbfounded that this creature would care about the boy. And then his face becomes a vicious snarl.

" _She thinks she cares?! This sick, stupid animal thinks she loves him?!"_

The detective walks over and smacks his pistol across Vicky's face, and then pushes her to the ground. The seasoned detective is much more able-bodied than Vicky. He smears her face along the tiles and punching her in the stomach. Vicky whimpers and soon begins begging him to stop.

"I'm just getting started." he whispers, eliciting a squeal of pain from his victim. He stands up and drags her away from the bedroom and approaches the door, holding her up with both hands to prevent her from trying to scream or attack. She kicks her legs up and tries to wrap them around Frank's arms, but he simply continues walking. He shoves her down on the ground and takes his gun back out, aiming right at Vicky's head. She stares down the barrel of the gun, wondering if this is the end, or if this mad man simply wants to play with her more. Vicky gulps and prepares for the end.

" _I'm sorry Timmy. I'm so sorry. Please don't be scared."_

Vicky and her attacker are too occupied to notice that Timmy is already awake. He focuses on his terrified girlfriend, and the man standing tall above her, ready to put an end to her life. He doesn't know what this stranger wants, nor does he care if he gets hurt or worse in the crossfire. He simply leaps forward, charging at the deranged man and sending him off balance. Vicky lunges into action, burying her early fears as she tackles the detective. Timmy and Vicky both reach for the gun, trying to tear it away while keeping themselves outside the barrel's path.

"Fucking piece of shit!" Vicky shouts.

"Get away from her you creep!" Timmy screams. They're loud as can be, trying to wake up enough of their neighbors to attract attention to the early morning brawl. Both know that the other's life hangs in the balance, and at any moment this battle could be fatal. Frank Johnson pushes and shoves and wiggles to shake the pair off. He even drops his gun for a moment, which causes Timmy to jump for it. But without Vicky and Timmy holding Frank off together, he regains his resolve and shoves Vicky aside. He strikes Timmy in the head, sending him to the ground with a loud thud.

"Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!" Vicky screams. The frenzied detective swings his pistol at Vicky, sending her to the ground. She charges back up, racing for the gun, only for the Detective Johnson to grab her mouth and shove her back down. She hits her head on the living room table, releasing a loud grunt as the detective again points his gun at her.

"Stay down." he says casually, almost scolding her for attempting to save her skin. He turns to Timmy Turner and glares. "You should go back in the bedroom, kid."

"I'm… I'm not leaving." he mumbles, his head scrambled from the concussion.

"You're gonna be safe soon, got that? Now get in the bedroom."

Timmy gasps at what the Detective said. He realizes that this person isn't here to rob or murder them, but to find him and bring him back. No matter what answer he gives, no matter his pleading. So instead of pleading, he dashes to Vicky's side. Her eyes pop open as Timmy stands in front of her, shielding her with his body.

"Get out." Timmy demands, glaring straight up into the eyes of the seasoned killer. And for a brief moment, the man who has seen everything is dumbfounded. How can Timmy be standing in front of her, defending her for all the years of kidnapping? He can see the scars over Timmy's body. Vicious marks of lust left by the wolf Vicky. _"Got to be brainwashed. Stockholm Syndrome."_

"No." he replies, quickly regaining his resolve. "Get out, twerp. You don't want to see this."

"You don't have the right to call me that!" Timmy shouts angrily. "Only _she_ does!" More silence. Timmy doesn't budge. He remains motionless, shielding Vicky from harm. "Get out now before someone calls the cops. Get the fuck out!"

Now the detective can see it. Timmy Turner isn't being held hostage. He isn't terrified of dying, he's terrified of losing the person he loves more than anything in the world. _"This kid… there's something wrong with this freak."_

The mad detective is ready to pull the trigger and blast away the teenager. His shaken sense of right and wrong won't allow him to let Vicky slip away, but now that he realizes Timmy is willingly with her, he won't allow Timmy to escape either. They're both monsters in his eyes. Timmy sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes. He's ready to protect Vicky to the end. What he isn't prepared for is what comes next. Vicky shoves Timmy aside and charges the detective, taking a bullet in the stomach and her left shoulder. As blood shoots out, Vicky reaches for the gun, pushing it aside, and grabs onto the detective's throat. She latches onto him, shaking him around while strangling him like a deranged monkey.

"Try and shoot my twerp?! Fucking die, you fucking piece of shit!"

Timmy goes for the ankles, lifting his attempted shooter off his feet and sending him to the ground. Vicky is able to keep him in a grapple, slowly choking the life out of him. Before she can try and finish him, there's a loud banging at the door.

"Police! Open up!"

Vicky keeps her hold on the attacker as Timmy backs away. "Twerp, get a shirt on." Vicky says, trying to keep the deranged detective in her hold. Timmy rushes into the bedroom and changes his clothes. Timmy hurries over to the door and pulls it open, realizing it was already unlocked by the psycho hunting him.

"What the hell is going on in here?" one of the cops' asks. "This asshole tried to kill us!" Timmy says as Vicky releases her hold. The deranged detective slips away and stands up. He marches up to the cops with his hands in the air. They draw their weapons as he approaches and shout "Get on the ground!"

"My name is Detective Frank Johnson. I was hired to search for these missing persons. One is a kidnap victim for nearly three years, and the other is his kidnapper. They invited me in and tried to ambush me."

"He's full of shit." Timmy says. "This is my sister, and this psycho tried to kill us."

"The boy is lying."

"He's just a crook trying to get you to let your guard down, don't listen to him."

"Alright!" the other cop shouts. He asks the detective to step forward and show his I.D. to the cops while the other calls an ambulance for Vicky. Detective Johnson slowly retrieves his wallet. He checks his right pocket, but finds it isn't there. He checks left, and takes his wallet out. _"Could have sworn it was in the right side."_ he thinks as he takes it out. He opens his wallet, only to find that his ID is nowhere to be found. Sometime during the scuffle Vicky had taken his wallet, swiped his ID, and slipped it back in.

"I think my ID may have been stolen." he mumbles as he's placed in handcuffs. "We'll figure everything out at the station." the cop says. In the next several minutes, Timmy stays close to Vicky, checking her wounds over and trying not to cry at the sight. Blood is slowly leaking down her shirt where the bullet hit her shoulder, and her side has a hole, like someone cut out a piece of skin.

"It'll be okay, sis." he says.

"Twerp, I really, _really_ fucked up, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. You stopped that jackass from killing me."

"Yeah, but… I'm not sure… not sure I'll make it."

Vicky soon passes out from her wounds. Timmy sinks into her, but soon he feels a firm hand on his shoulder. The paramedics have arrived with a stretcher. "I don't need it." Vicky mumbles as she stands up.

"You've been badly wounded."

"I said, I'm fine. I'm getting in the ambulance myself." Timmy and one of the officers follow Vicky to the door before she falls down. "Yeah, you're not going anywhere." the paramedic says in a joking tone. Timmy resists the urge to yell at the man as he brings the stretcher out of the home. Detective Frank Johnson sits quietly in the back seat of the police cruiser as Vicky is moved into the ambulance, all the while the neighbors begin gossiping about the commotion. "Was that Victoria?" "What the hell happened?" "There was a lot of screaming. I hope she's alright. She's the nicest neighbor ever."

Timmy ignores the questions and spreading rumors. The only thing that matters is being with Vicky. Timmy locks and shuts the door to their house before heading off with Vicky. "You can't come with." the paramedics say. "I'm not leaving her." Timmy declares, filled with worry as Vicky passes out in the ambulance. "I'm not… I'm going to be there… if she… if she's gone and I'm not there, I'll never forgive myself."

The paramedics reluctantly let Timmy on board, knowing he'll never let them leave without him. The officer walks up and tells the teen "We'll be over to ask some questions about the assault later. For now, you just stay calm. Alright, kids?"

"Uh, yeah." Timmy replies as the paramedics slam the door. Vicky grumbles like she's simply irritated at the ongoing madness, but Timmy knows how close they came to being discovered, or worse, killed. He knows the police will be back, and that it will simply be a matter of time before Vicky and he are discovered. Their home is now a crime scene, a crime scene with a hidden suitcase filled with some nine hundred thousand dollars and Vicky's blood leaking onto the floor, providing a potential DNA link back to the pair of them. This was the hour at which everything would collapse.


	7. Chapter 7

Vicky opens her eyes and leans up. "Alcohol now." She demands.

"I-what?" the paramedics reply. Vicky scowls at the pair of them, fully awake again. "Give me some damn medical juice so I can clean this wound!" she shouts. The paramedics attempt to hold her down, but she simply punches each of them in the throat. Vicky punches down the one as Timmy looks on in horror.

"Control yourself, lady!"

"I am!" she replies as the driver starts moving again. "Give me the alcohol and turn around!" she shouts. "What's going on back there?" The driver yells

Vicky jumps him as Timmy blocks the two paramedics in the back. _"This is insane! How the fuck is this happening?"_ Timmy's heart is racing and his mind is shooting in a hundred different directions. He knew Vicky could be a criminal, but this was his first time seeing her truly vicious side. She might stab the ambulance crew with a syringe at any moment just to get the two out of there.

"Turn this junk heap around this instant!" "Oh, oh shit!" "Do you wanna die?! I said turn this fucking truck around!"

As the driver complies and switches off the sirens, she takes his cell phone and smashes it on the ground. She rips the radio off the cord and smashes it as well. Timmy has never seen Vicky this desperate before. She's a wild animal driven entirely by adrenaline. She rips a bottle of medicinal alcohol and pours it over her stomach wound. She hisses at the pain before grabbing a roll of medical tape and wrapping it around her stomach. One of the paramedics tries reaching for his pocket, only for Vicky to grab his hand. She holds tight like a vice until he drops his cell phone, then smashes it on the ground. Vicky then begins disinfecting her shoulder wound. She tries to rip out the bullet, but finds it's too embedded in.

"You, rip the bullet out, now!"

"But it's not properly cleaned!"

"Then fucking clean it!"

Vicky drops back down on the ambulance bed, trying to keep herself focused so she doesn't pass out from blood loss. The paramedic begins cleaning out the wound, trying to pull out bits of shrapnel and bloodied clothing. The process takes the entire length of time for the ambulance to return to their apartment. By this point, both cops have left, and no one is left outside. There are a few lights still on, but no one left to witness Vicky's hostage taking. After her wounds are clear, she starts wrapping them up. "Y-you can't just wrap it up. There could be smaller bits of shrapnel or clothing in the wound! You need proper suturing and that's only done at the hospital!"

Vicky grumbles at the green-eyed man before lifting off the gurney. "If you don't want me hurting someone in the apartments, then you drive straight back to the hospital. You don't stop to call the cops, you don't stop to try and tell someone, you drive all the way there!" she says. The paramedics agree with a nod. "Now get outa here! Scram!"

Vicky and Timmy watch as the ambulance drives off. Then they make a dash for their home. Vicky smashes the door open. "Get your stuff together, we only got about five minutes to get out of here."

Vicky runs into the kitchen and reaches under the sink. A hidden box below contains at least a hundred grand worth of stolen money. Timmy grabs the rest from under the bed, picking a couple of shirts for the both of them before running for the car. Vicky jumps into the side seat. "Twerp, you drive. We don't… don't need me passing out on the road and crashing."

"Um… yeah." Timmy says. Vicky is already sounding woozy again. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving her a pain stricken mess. Timmy hasn't driven much before, only practicing in empty lots with Vicky. But now he'll need to drive long into the night, with barely a good night's sleep from being discovered by his old therapist the day before. "Don't fall asleep on the road, twerp." Vicky says before passing out. Now he's all alone. No more tips and no second pair of eyes to make sure he doesn't screw up.

"Well, here we go."

Timmy drives until sunrise, wondering where he should go now that they'll soon be found out. Their names will be all over the news, now that they've held up an ambulance, even though Timmy is sure that Vicky would never kill anyone.

"Well, at least I hope she wouldn't." Timmy says aloud as Vicky starts snoring. Soon the pair is out of state. Vicky wakes up when it's nearly noon. "Twerp?" she mumbles. "I'm here. How are you feeling?"

"Shoulder hurts bad. Think… think we should have gone to the hospital." she mumbles.

"We would have been caught if we went with them."

"I know… still hurts." she says. Timmy can hear the defeat in her voice. Even with their early morning escape, they'll still end up hunted now that they've been found. They'll eventually have to ditch their car and somehow find new identities. Soon Timmy pulls over near a rest stop, taking a few minutes to try and wake himself up. "Should of… should of got two pairs of fake IDs." Vicky says.  
"Should have done a lot of things different… but here we are." Timmy says. It feels like a dream. A dream he wants to wake up from. He wants to wake up in his bed with Vicky in his embrace. No mad cop, no hostage taking, and not wondering if Vicky is going to die in the car. Tears begin to fall. He tries his best to hold them back, but he can't. He falls against the steering wheel and begins to sob. Soon he feels the touch of a warm hand. Vicky pulls him into an embrace. Now he feels even worse. He should be the one comforting her, but here he is, falling apart when they still haven't figured out where to go. "I'm sorry, Vicky. I…"

"Shush, twerp. We'll get out of this… we always do. Now let's… let's get some coffee."

Timmy nods and steps out of the car. "Get… try and find some first aid, this thing's getting a bit leaky." Vicky says, pointing to her stomach. Timmy can see a small stain where the tape is soaked in blood.  
"Uh, yeah." Timmy says. He drags his sleepy self out of the car and begins walking. He notices a security camera recording the entryway, and knows he's now given another potential link to their crimes. Timmy makes sure he's fast enough to reduce the risk of being found out. He grabs coffee for the both of them, then tries to find some first aid.

He notices a wall with a first aid kit behind the counter, with two cashiers both watching. "Do you need anything?" a lady with a ponytail and an expression that says "I literally don't care about anything."

"Uh, yeah. My sister got hurt pretty bad on when we were hiking. We need some medical tape, and maybe some disinfectant."

"Ah, sure, fine." she mumbles. The lady goes and pulls down the first aid kit and hands it over. "Just make sure you bring it back, or whatever."

"Yeah, thanks." Timmy says. He takes the first aid kit around his arm while holding both coffees. He's about to walk away when he's stopped by an older man in the same clothing as the cashiers and tourist guides. "Hang on we can't just let that out of sight. And we need to make sure you aren't just stealing pain killers."

"I just need some medical tape and medicine." Timmy replies. "Nope, sorry, no can do, kid." Timmy takes a deep breath as he's forced to bring the manager along with the medical supplies. Vicky's still sound asleep in the car as Timmy walks up. He opens the door on his side while the manager waits at Vicky's. Timmy sets the coffees in the front seat cup holders before going back to the other side. "I can handle this." Timmy says. "I've got some experience treating wounds." Timmy hopes his lie is enough to let him deal with Vicky's wounds. "I still have to see what's happened. I don't need you stealing painkillers or alcohol." the man says. He doesn't trust Timmy enough to not be a thief. Timmy gulps as he opens the door. He knows Vicky needs medicine, but he also knows they don't need another witness to get the cops on their trail. Vicky opens her eyes and smiles at Timmy, before it turns into a frown at seeing the man behind her twerp.

"Who's… who's this?" she says. "Uh, he's here to make sure we don't steal anything."

"Can you walk?" the manager asks. Vicky's pained grumble at shifting in her seat gives him the answer. Vicky lifts up part of her shirt and shows him the wound. "I fell on a pretty sharp rock and hit my stomach and shoulder pretty bad. Don't think anything is broken, but there's a fair amount of blood."

"When did that happen?" the man asks as he retrieves a band of medical tape. "We went hiking this morning." Vicky replies. Timmy is glad they operate on the same wave length, coming up with the exact same excuse. "There's no trails nearby, why'd you come all the way here?"

"We were driving home when it started leaking again." Timmy responds. The manager seems to buy their excuses for the moment, but any second he might realize that Vicky's wounds were from gunshots. "I can take it from here, thanks." Timmy says. The old man crooks an eyebrow. Timmy and Vicky seem really driven on not letting anyone deal with Vicky's wounds. But they don't seem to be drug addicts, trying to steal for any reason, and he can sure enough see blood leaking through the bandages on Vicky's side. He hands them a roll of tape and some rubbing alcohol, then prepares to leave. He pauses momentarily and looks back at Vicky's wounds one last time before heading back. Timmy notices his pace is just a slight faster than before. "I think we should get going first." Timmy says. He starts the car and pulls out of the rest stop just as the manager takes out his cell phone. Timmy barrels down the highway, flying at least ten miles past the speed limit as he tries to reach the next exit. "Twerp, why you going so fast?"

"That guy was just about to call the cops." Timmy replies as he tries to keep his breath steady. "That… prick." Vicky says weakly. "When you spot the exit, pull in to a hotel… we'll figure out what to do then."

Timmy nods as they continue on their way. They find the nearest exit, luckily not too far from the pit stop, and are soon wandering a small town deep in the forest. They drive into the parking lot of the only hotel available. "What do we do?" Timmy asks, taking a sip of coffee. He didn't like the taste much, but he needed the caffeine, the energy. He notices Vicky trying to rip her shirt off one handed, with a piece stuck in her mouth holding it up. Timmy sets his coffee down.

"Let me help with that." Timmy says. He pulls the shirt over her right arm and sets it down. He fights back tears as he removes the old wrappings. Vicky groans at the sting of the tape pulling away from her wounds.

"How's the pain?" Timmy asks.

"Same as before. Feel like shit."

Vicky takes the alcohol and pours it over her bullet wounds. The sting makes Vicky hiss in pain. After cleaning the bullet hole as best she can, Vicky and Timmy start wrapping the new bandages over the wound. "Where do we go from here?" Timmy asks. He can see that Vicky's wounds are bad. Without proper medical care, she could develop a deep infection. Timmy tries to think on how they should proceed. He knows a professional hospital would probably call the police on someone with two bullet holes in them. He sees Vicky's red hair is starting to show through the hair dye. He knows his own hair will soon be revealed. It would only be a matter of time before their identities are pieced together. Timmy himself doesn't know anything about stitching up wounds and would simply make everything worse. " _Vicky might know… but she's hurt pretty bad. Even if she does know there's no way she could do it with one arm."_ Timmy thinks and thinks on the best course of action. He knows that the time is ticking down before Vicky either needs serious emergency care or they're caught by the cops. Then an idea pops in to his head. An awful, stupid, almost never likely to work idea.

"Uh… A.J.'s gonna be a doctor." Timmy says, thinking aloud.

"What?" Vicky replies sternly, as if she just heard the dumbest idea possible.

"I… he's smart. Smarter than both of us."

"No. He knows us, he knows _me_ , and there's no way in hell he'd be up to it. He'll fuck up accidentally or on purpose just to get to me."

"But he knows _me._ " Timmy replies. "He knows how I've felt since the last time we've seen each other. He doesn't understand, but he's my friend. I… I think he's our best shot."

Vicky protests loudly. "Twerp, he isn't gonna do it!"

"Trust me, Vicky! This is the only… only way we can stay together… any other way and we're fucked."

Timmy doesn't want to admit it, but Vicky could be right. But he also knows that without A.J., they're trapped between a rock and a hot plate, slowly getting crushed between two terrible outcomes. At least with A.J., Timmy has a chance to convince him to help, and he knows that his old friend is smart enough for the task.

"Vicky… I don't want to lose you." is all he says. Vicky takes a deep breath, realizing that if they want to stay together, this is the only way to accomplish it. The only option with even a slight chance of success.

"Fuck it, let's do it." Vicky says. Without another word, Timmy pulls out of the parking lot and starts driving back home, the least likely place for anyone to look for the pair. Timmy drives southwest, long into the day. Vicky sleeps most of the time, trying not to move too hard with her wounds. They stop only once to change Vicky's bandages again, and as the sun is setting they've returned to Dimmsdale, California. Timmy pulls up to an Apple store and uses their stolen cash to buy a new phone. He hurries back to the car, keeping his eyes lowered and his hat pushed down to avoid any security cameras. After pulling into an empty parking lot, Timmy calls the one friend who accepts their relationship.

"Hello." Tootie says. "It's me, Timmy. Can you get ahold of A.J.?" Timmy asks quickly. "I, uh, why?" Tootie responds worriedly. "Vicky's hurt. Real bad. Some psycho cop or something hunted us and tried to kill us."

"What?! Oh god, are you okay?!"

"I'm fine, but Vicky needs help. And the only one who can do that is A.J."

"I, what, but how?!"

"He's practicing for being as surgeon, right?"

"Ah, yeah, but he's only sixteen!"

"And he's the smartest person in the state, maybe the freaking country. He once built a model nuclear reactor that got the FBI called in to dismantle it. He's a super nerd and my friend, so he should be able to help with Vicky's wounds."

"I… okay. Fuck. Meet me behind the Nasty Burger. It closed down about a month ago so it's safe."

"See you there."

Timmy hangs up the phone and smashes it, just in case someone tries to link it back to him and Vicky. Timmy drives over to the Nasty Burger and waits in the car. He checks his hair in the mirror, trying to make sure he still has enough blonde in his hair to disguise himself. He pulls up to the Nasty Burger, with its windows boarded up, the sign taken down, and no sign of any activity. A wave of nostalgia overwhelms Timmy. How many summer days and weekends did he spend in there? Too many to count. Now it's gone, a seemingly appropriate metaphor for his relationships with everyone.

" _We'll always be together, right?" Chester asks._

" _Always." Timmy and A.J. reply_

"Always." Timmy whispers to himself as Vicky wakes up, growling at the pain in her arm. "Is it still bleeding?" Timmy asks. "A bit, yeah. Not as bad as before." "I'm going to meet with Tootie and A.J… uh, don't die on me."

"Ha. It'll take more than this to do me in." Vicky replies with a pained laugh. Timmy gives her a quick kiss before leaving her in the car. He takes a deep breath. This would the first time seeing A.J. in two years. Would he yell? Would he leave? Would he just take his cell phone out and call the cops right then and there?

Timmy pushes those questions to the back of his mind. A.J. was always the least judgmental of the group. He had to believe that A.J. would help, otherwise the only place left to go would be the hospital, and then Vicky would be thrown in jail. So Timmy waits in the alley. Minutes pass like hours, and Timmy tries to keep focused on his breathing, trying not to panic or punch the wall until his knuckles bleed. He has to reassure himself "Deep breaths, Timmy. Deep breaths."

After another couple minutes, he hears a voices approaching from the other side. He looks over and sees Tootie and A.J. coming through. "So why'd you bring me down here?" A.J. asks suspiciously. "You're not, like, trying to buy drugs or anything right?"

"Why the heck would you think that?"

"Well, there's that pale looking dude who looks like he's waiting for someone. Seriously, this better be a prank or something."

Timmy can't help but smirk. A.J. can't even recognize him. That was always the idea, but now that he hears it, the pain stabs him like a knife. "Just… we need your help." Tootie says. "Who?" A.J. responds

"I do." Timmy says at last. He looks his friend in the eye and waits for him to see through his disguise. His eyes bulge, his pupils dilate, and he inhales deeply. He stumbles in place as his mind races.

"Ti… Timmy?"

A.J. is frozen in place, far too shocked at seeing his friend after two years. He walks over as Timmy bears a small, bittersweet smile.

"Where… where the hell have you been?" he asks incredulously. "I, uh… been busy." is all Timmy can say. "I need your help, A.J. Vicky's hurt pretty bad."

"What?... you just, you just come all this way, after all this time, just to ask for my help?!"

"Vicky's been shot." Timmy replies sternly. "I ain't going to argue." Timmy turns to meet his friend's gaze, continuing to speak matter-of-factly. "She needs help, and we can't go to a hospital. Some psycho cop or detective or something found us out, and it's only a matter of time before someone tears our home apart looking for clues or she gets some horrible infection and dies."

"She's… she's shot?" A.J.'s anger has faded slightly. "Shot? How?"

"She… she tried to save me. That cop was going to kill us. I saw it in his eyes. He was _hunting_ us like animals, and he was gonna put us both down. Vicky jumped in front of me and took two rounds… we can't go to a hospital. People will be asking too many questions."

"You… you want me to… to perform surgery?" A.J. gulps. He realizes just what Timmy wants him to do. He's only ever watched surgeries done before, only studied in books how to proceed, but he's never handled the tools, never actually been in the room when the surgery was done. "We just need you to get two bullets out and stitch her up." Timmy says, trying to reassure his friend. "You don't understand, Timmy. Bullet fragments could have caused some serious damage. I can't just magically sew her up like a torn shirt… I gotta have medical equipment."

"Then _find_ it." Timmy demands. A.J. goes silent. He has never heard Timmy so commanding before, sounding like a completely different person. Timmy releases a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, A.J… it's just… I don't know how bad it is… and I don't… I just don't know what to do…"

"She really means that much to you, doesn't she?" A.J. asks.

"More than the world." Timmy responds sullenly.

A.J. swallows before responding. "We'll need medical supplies… and an x-ray machine. You two should head over to the vet. Tootie, I need you to head over to Chester's. Pretend that we're all spending the night together. Or Chester got super drunk and we had to take him home. Just, make up some kind of excuse. I'll figure out what to tell them in the morning. Timmy, take Vicky over to the vet's office. It's on Fifth and Mannard, near the Dimmadome parking lot. I'll meet you over there in a bit."

Timmy replies "Thank you."

"You should hurry, Timmy."

Timmy smiles hopefully before running off. "I'll see you there!" Timmy shouts behind him. He gets in the front seat and turns the engine on.

"So are we fucked, twerp?" Vicky asks.

"No. A.J. agreed to help us."

Vicky lets out a long sigh of relief. "First good news I've heard all day."

Timmy drives over to the vet's office.

"So you think they're calling the cops, twerp?" Vicky asks with a laugh.

"No way." Timmy replies with sly confidence. He knows he's been able to keep his friends on his side.

Timmy brings his lover to the vet's office. No lights are found inside, and a closed sign is left on the window by the door. A.J. helps sneak Vicky and Timmy through the back. He turns on the lights, washes everything down just in case, dons his surgeon gear complete with face mask and gloves, and prepares for the first surgery of his life.

Vicky begins removing her shirt. A.J. tries not to focus too much on the sight of his old nightmare babysitter stripping naked. She hasn't worn a bra since the night before, and now A.J. can see everything. _Everything._ He ignores the beautiful evil amazon's lustrous chest in favor of focusing on her shoulder wound. A.J. places the X-Ray over her. He takes the necessary snapshots and begins developing the pictures.

"So twerp, if we make it out of this, then what?"

Timmy is caught off guard by the question. For the last twenty four hours, the only thing on his mind has been the immediate need to get Vicky medical attention. But as he ponders the question, he realizes how completely fucked the pair of them are. They've lost their false identities, the cops and FBI have probably already started up another manhunt, and eventually the both of them will be found out.

"I… don't know." he responds dejectedly. "We… we could try to rent a place somewhere east. Maybe near Chicago… or something."

"I… maybe it'd be best… to just stick with the car for now." Vicky replies.

"On the road… we'll need to get new license plates."

"Maybe I can rip some off of a used car. Or buy some from one of my old crime buddies."

A.J. ignores the casual discussion of criminal activities in favor of focusing on his work. He examines the x-rays and finds that the bullet in Vicky's stomach became lodged in flesh, with the one in her shoulder fragmenting against the upper bone.

"Judging from these, and the fact that you're still alive, there doesn't seem to be any major organ damage or cuts to the arteries."

Timmy swallows on that last one. _"She could have died."_

"So now what?" Vicky asks.

"We'll see on what we need to remove. Maybe some of it, maybe none. If anything's blocking a vein or broken bone from healing properly, we'll need to get rid of it."

"Alright. Get to it."

A.J. takes a single deep breath to calm his nerves, and then begins peeling back the layers of bandages. Over the next half hour, he removes the bullet fragments and pieces of cloth that are in the way of repairing the wound. Timmy is his assistant, keeping the sweat out of his eyes and trying to help Vicky stay still. He can see the pain in her eyes. She releases low growls and pained hissing throughout the procedure, keeping herself steady to avoid causing needless pain. Timmy is surprised he barely needs to hold her down. She manages to keep the twitching to a minimum, and before they know it, A.J. has completed the first part of the surgery.

"Not bad for a sixteen year old." Vicky mumbles, trying to focus on anything but the stabbing pain in her arm.

"Not out of the woods yet." A.J. replies. After making sure that Vicky's arm is stitched together, A.J. begins wrapping a cast around Vicky's arm and shoulder. "You think she'll need that?" Timmy asks.

"Any movement could tear the hole or something inside." A.J. responds.

Next A.J. starts removing the bandages around her stomach. "You sure you want to do both at once?"

"Just get it over with, lil' guy." Vicky mumbles. Timmy can see it in her eyes. She's far more tired than she's ever been. The fiery joy of chaos is replaced by a numb, yet determined desire to push through the pain as fast as possible. A.J. begins work on the second bullet. He removes the bullet from Vicky's stomach, and then begins sealing up the open wound. He staples the wound closed to prevent further bleeding and infection. It's nearly four in the morning by the time A.J. has finished.

"My parents must be worried sick about me by now." A.J. says. He rips off his surgical mask and helps Vicky off the table. "Make sure you don't put too much pressure on it, and don't move around too much either. Try and get some sleep when you can."

"Don't suppose you know a place to stay, do you?" Vicky asks.

"There's a homeless shelter in downtown Dimmsdale, but someone might recognize you."

"Guess… guess we'll have to sleep in the car." Timmy says with a yawn. He's been up so long he can barely keep his eyes open. The pair leaves the vet while A.J. goes over to Chester's house, to try to make the lie at least somewhat believable.

Vicky heads towards the driver's seat. "Shouldn't I drive?" Timmy asks with another yawn. "You've been up all day and night. At least I had some shut-eye." Vicky says.

"Come on, I'll drive. Don't want you fainting in the middle of the road." Timmy says.

"It's fine."

"So let me drive." he says casually. Vicky grumbles.

"You know you're starting to get way too stubborn, twerp."

"I learn from the best." he says as he gets back in the driver's seat. Vicky gets back in the passenger's side, struggling slightly to do fasten her seatbelt with one hand.

"Where… where're we going, Vicky?"

"Find some parking lot and stay there for the night. After that… fuck if I know."

"Do you think… we should try and find another car?"

"… What do you mean?"

"To… I guess steal it."

Vicky grins at Timmy's idea.

"You're starting to develop a criminal side to you. It's cute."

Timmy laughs slightly as he turns around to look Vicky in the eyes.

"But then someone will report the car missing. So that won't work, twerp."

"Maybe… switch license plates."

"We'll do that in the morning. For now, get some shut eye."

Timmy drives until they find a place to stay. Timmy pulls in under some trees for shade while Vicky rolls the window's down.

"Can't we just leave the AC on?" Timmy asks.

"Don't want to run down the car battery. Besides, it'll be fine." Vicky says, mumbling as she passes out from exhaustion. Timmy falls asleep soon after, dreaming of happier times as the stars move overhead.


	8. Chapter 8

Timmy wakes up in the middle of the day. The hot sun is steaming the car, even in the shade. All four windows are down, but the heat is still bearing down on the pair. Timmy turns the car on and pulls out of the parking lot. They're low on gas and haven't eaten in two days. Timmy's stomach growls, desperate for some nourishment.

"Where we going, twerp?" Vicky asks, yawning as she wakes up.

"Gonna get some food, then we'll head out… figure out where to go from there."

Timmy pulls up to a fast food drive thru. He ignores the paranoia concerning security cameras for the time being, too hungry to care about being spotted. "What do you want, Vicky?"

"Just get me… burger." she mumbles before closing her eyes. Timmy pulls up to the speaker box.

"Welcome to Funny Patty's."

He pushes his head out the window. "Uh, I'll get, uh, a cheeseburger, a garden burger, two orders of fries. And two cups of water."

Timmy pulls up to the window. He fishes through his pockets for cash. Then he turns to the backseat. But the suitcase full of money isn't there.

"Vicky? You… you put the suitcase in the backseat… right?"

Vicky's eyes open wide. She turns around and looks in. Empty.

"Fuck!" she shouts. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! God… shit!"

Vicky turns around and smashes her fist on the dashboard. Their luck just went from screwed to fucked.

"We… we lost our luggage and wallet. Sorry." Timmy says to the cashier. "Whatever." is the only response. "Can we at least get the waters?"

"Fine."

Timmy takes the cups. For now, this is the best they've got. Timmy pulls into the parking lot of the Funny Patty's.

"I- I know I packed our money!" Vicky yells.

"I saw. I know we had it in the back." Timmy confirms.

"When… fuck, I opened the windows in the night."

"I should have left the AC on."

"Then our car battery would be dead."

"Fuck. Fuck!"

Timmy shouts against the cold hands of fate. He punches the steering wheel. The horn beep doesn't do anything to dissipate his anger. Someone stole their money in the middle of the night. Some random asshole thug came and ruined their last chance at freedom. This was it.

"Twerp… you… your dad still lives around here, right?"

Timmy looks over to Vicky. Was she seriously suggesting they give up?

"Vicky, I'm not leaving you. I don't care what we have to do."

Vicky chokes back a laugh. She tries to hold back the tears, realizing that they've run out of options.

"We've got nothing left, Timmy."

"We've still got each other."

Vicky smiles even as her eyes water up. "We ain't gonna survive long being homeless, Timmy."

"I'm not losing you, Vicky."

Vicky takes a deep breath. This was harder than it seemed. She wants to keep running. Stay on the move, from state to state, country to country. But where would it end? The two of them starving in a homeless shelter? Building a home out of scrap wood and cardboard beneath a freeway? Timmy deserves better. He deserves the world, for he's given the world to her time and time again.

"Timmy… we can't run anymore."

Vicky reaches for his face. His perfect, handsome face. Blue eyes, tanned skin, and the slightest bit of moustache fuzz. "You… you really are too good for me, you know that?"

"Vicky?... I'm not leaving."

"It'll be fine." she says, rolling her eyes, trying to cut the tension in the air. "I mean, I'm a lady. They'll go easy on me. Three or four years I'll be out and we can hitch up for real. You can send me postcards."

"Vicky, I'm not… if something happens to you in jail, I'd never forgive myself."

"You saying I can't hold my own?"

"No. God no. You're the strongest, bravest person I know. But if someone ambushes you like that psycho cop did then… I don't know what I'd do."

"Timmy… I don't want you to throw your life away just to be with me."

Timmy cringes and smashes his fist on the dashboard.

"Vicky… you are my life."

"Timmy."

"I'm not arguing with you! Not about this."

"Timmy… I don't know when we'll get to eat again. When we'll have a shower… or be in a warm bed… Twerp, you have an out. So take it."

Timmy smashes his face on the steering wheel. He doesn't want to argue. Not at a time like this. Vicky growls, her stubbornness turning to anger.

"Timmy, neither of us can live like hobos! If I get this stupid bullet hole infected I'll be fucked! We'll starve, we could get stabbed or killed. We could get ringworm. I don't even know what that is but I don't want it!"

"I… I don't care."

"But I do!" she yells. She takes a deep breath before continuing, trying not to begin a shouting match with Timmy. "… when we had money it was different. We could buy decent fake identities and get all nice and set up somewhere else. But now we don't have shit… like I said, they should go easy on me."

"Maybe… they'll allow conjugal visits." Timmy replies. Vicky laughs faintly. They were fucked but she could still laugh. Timmy smirks. Vicky has always tried to hide her feelings behind a vicious smile or angry glare. And he's always been able to read her every expression. She wants to run too. She wants to keep running like desperados hopping from town to town. But this isn't the Wild West. There's no decent way for them to survive. All they can do now is figure out how they'll be separated.

"Well… let's go." Timmy says weakly.


	9. Chapter 9

Dried yellow grass, a scorching afternoon sun, and the sound of a school bus driving past. Timmy stands outside the door of his father's house. His mom had moved out some time ago. There's a car in the driveway that isn't familiar. The roofing is the wrong color. If his dad still lived here, he couldn't tell. Everything has changed in the last few years.

He could still turn back. Still go on the run with Vicky, riding off into the sunset. Maybe they could go to Mexico? Or Brazil? Enjoy the nice soft beaches of Brazil as homeless tourists with no passport, no means of getting back. Or they could travel up to Canada. Find some abandoned log cabin and settle in for the cold winter. And then the door opens, tearing him from his fantasies.

"Oof!" Timmy is knocked on his ass. His father, with an unkempt beard and dark circles around his eyes, doesn't even realize he's bumped into his son. "Oh, sorry, kid. Just getting the morning paper."

"Uh, hey."

Timmy's dad turns around. He looks straight into the eyes of his son. The two stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. Timmy gives a limp wave.

"I… I don't have anywhere to stay." Timmy says. "Someone found out… some psycho cop… and we ran out of money… there's nowhere else to go… We… there's nothing else. It's either here or a homeless shelter."

Timmy's dad takes a deep breath. He's trying to remain calm. Should he run up and hug Timmy, or would that just drive him away? Take him inside and call the cops, call his ex-wife, call everyone he knows and tell them Timmy's back home, safe and sound? Scream at the top of his lungs or break down in tears? He can't even think at the moment. His son was gone for almost three years. Three long desperate years, where trying to simply force himself out of bed took almost all his effort. Three years Timmy spent away with a monster, and now he's back, completely casual like nothing's out of the ordinary.

"Timmy. What the hell are you doing here?" he mumbles. Timmy takes a deep breath. This day was going to be hell.

"No idea. Trying to find some ground… something to stick too."

"You… you run away from home… with… with that bitch! That psycho… and now you're just… back?!"

Timmy takes another deep breath. "Yeah, basically." he replies.

"I can't!... this is fuck…. just fucking shit."

"I got nothing else. You going to kick me out onto the street?" Timmy asks. His dad takes a while to respond. He clenches his fist and shakes his head.

"Just get inside." he grumbles. Timmy walks into his old home. A wave of memories comes flooding back. Playing with his friends in his old room, playing video games until his parents, or more likely Vicky, had to shout at them to go to bed. A sleepover in the living room while watching horror movies late into the night. And Vicky. Vicky was almost always there beside him. And now he can't help but fear he'll never have her again. And an insane idea comes to him. _Fight. Fight. You have to fight for it._

Timmy drops down onto the sofa. The rickety couch has seen its fair share of use. It feels like one or two nails away from dropping Timmy onto the floor. His father shuts, or rather slams the door. His hands are shaking as he tries to lock it. Then he comes into the living room, sitting on the chair next to the couch and staring straight at his son.

"You… you left me." his father whimpers. Timmy sucks in air. The absence has broken his father. Maybe he had time to repair himself, but now all the old wounds have been ripped back open.

"I… I didn't have a choice." Timmy says, crossing his legs and folding his arms.

"You… you did! You… you had a life!"

"I _did_ have a life. A life with Vicky. And I wanted to keep that life. I gave up everything just so we could… could have more time."

"More time?! You… you were only fourteen! You were a kid!"

"Yeah, I was. And I still chose!"

Timmy raises his voice despite his best intentions. It seems this was going to be a shouting match.

"You were- you're too young." his father says weakly.

"Yeah. I'd agree with you there. But I'm not changing. I'm not leaving Vicky."

Timmy's father swallows hard. He doesn't want this reunion to be nothing but arguing and broken memories. But at the mention of the woman who stole his son's life, he risks boiling over.

"Where is she?"

"She's… she's in the car."

Timmy's dad clenches his fists. She was right outside the door. The person he's wanted to get his hands on and throttle for the past three years. The person who broke apart their family. He has to force the words out before he chokes on his own hate.

"That... that _woman_... I'm not letting in."

Timmy doesn't give any hint of what he's thinking. He's trying desperately to fight for both worlds and keep his life together. If he fails, it could be years or even decades before he sees Vicky again. But it's hopeless. So he stands up and prepares to leave.

"We're together… if she's not allowed, then I'm not either."

Timmy takes a deep breath. His father leaps from the couch and grabs his arm. The old man is desperately trying to hold back the tears and bitter regret. "You can't leave! I'm… I'm your father!"

"For how long?" Timmy spews. "A couple months? A year? And how long has Vicky been with me? She was always there. Even when she was pretending not to be, pretending to _hate_ me! She was there."

Timmy rips his arm from his dad's grip. "I'm not leaving her!… I'm not gonna… I'm not doing it."

This was it. The fury at even considering being separated has boiled over. He couldn't bring himself to get angry at Vicky. But his dad? He could release everything. It was wrong and it was cruel, but he doesn't think. He simply unloads his brain of tension and all the harsh words built up over the years come blasting out.

"Don't you get it, dad?! We're happy! We actually _get_ each other. Not like you and mom. We've worked and worked and _worked_ until we could build our lives back up! We fought every fucking day! I got my first job at fifteen! I was studying at a fucking college level since a year ago! Just to make sure we weren't fucked in the long run!"

Timmy growls. He turns around and punches the wall. And then he punches again. And again. Was this hopeless? He punches the wall until his doubts are gone. And then he punches some more. Timmy rests his head on his arm, letting out his fury and sadness in low, shuttered breaths. He was going to do it. It doesn't matter if him and Vicky have nothing, he would run away a second time. No questions, no thoughts of before. He would live in the gutter. And Vicky would too. They would both be starving, broken retches. With no medicine, no safety net, nothing. _"There's no way we can live like that."_ Vicky's words echo in his mind. Despite her ferocity, sometimes she was the voice of reason. And the cold hard facts were that such a life wouldn't work for long. They might last a year or two, but eventually the cold winters, or the risk of being crime statistics would rise. Something would break them, if they weren't already broken now.

"I'm… just not sure… I can live without her…" he whimpers. He was tired. Tired from running, tired from hiding, tired from trying not to die. Everything's turning to shit and he can't do anything to stop it.

"… Don't go…"

Timmy's father has lost all anger in his voice. Timmy doesn't turn to face him. He isn't sure if he could right now, knowing his dad is breaking down. The sight would stab Timmy in the heart. Even after all the years of neglect, all the absent-minded parenting, he still loves his parents.

"I don't know what to do, Dad. Everything…"

Timmy turns around, but he can't bear to look his father in the eye. "Everything's fucked."

He walks back over to the couch and falls into the seat. "Just help me, please."

His father shuffles his feet back to the living room. He stares at the floor, stewing in the pit of his pain and anger. Timmy is begging his dad for help, but the tired man can barely summon the willpower to speak.

"What kind of father am I?" he whispers to himself. Timmy makes out just enough of his dad's words to feel a sting of guilt. Regret is plain on the man's face. Regret for every single step he's taken towards this moment. He collapses in the chair across from his son. He sits there for many minutes, stewing in self-loathing. Timmy needs something to focus on besides his dad. He settles for the clock ticking away. Tick, tock, tick, tock. The clockworks tick hypnotically in the background while Timmy waits for an answer.

"Bring… bring her in."

The words barely escape from Mr. Turner's throat. He struggles to bring himself to help the one person he hates the most. The one person he's dreamt of getting his hands on and beating within an inch of her life. Timmy nods and stands up. For now, his dad had agreed to at least let Vicky into the house. _"Guess this is all I'm going to get for now."_ he thinks.

Timmy returns to the car. Vicky sits in the passenger seat with the windows down and the radio on a low beat. Vicky's arm rests lazily on the car door, her fingers tapping away. She puts on her best face, but it still doesn't hide the fear and suspense eating away at her. She was restless. The next few minutes would mean she either found a new place to stay or, far more likely, get dragged away in handcuffs as onlookers gawked and gossiped. Timmy walks up to the passenger's side. "Uh… he says you can come in."

Vicky lets out a relieved sigh, not even realizing she was holding her breath.

"Well, guess there's some good news today." Vicky says. Timmy opens the car and helps Vicky to the front door. "I can walk perfectly fine myself, twerp."

"I don't want you getting woozy from pain. Can't have you fall and break your bones. We'd have to go back to the vet."

Vicky laughs again. They've jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. The fire being Vicky in the same room as the man who's most likely to want to murder her, next to the detective. Timmy opens the door and helps Vicky inside. His father sucks in a deep breath, tensing up at seeing the monstrous ex-babysitter after so long.

"Vicky…" he says, more to confirm to himself that what he's seeing is real, not some nightmare or fever dream. Vicky Valentine is before him. Bruised, bloodied, and with fading black hair dye, but still pretty much exactly how she looked the last time they met. He looks at the arm sling and bandages around her waist.

"Wondering how I got this?" Vicky asks.

"Figured you…" He wants to say she deserves this. To deserve the pain and worry and regret. Timmy can see it in his father's eyes. Instead, Mr. Turner takes a long, deep breath, and exhales slowly. "No, not going there." he says to himself. Timmy sits down next to Vicky, looking over her left side to make sure she hasn't torn open her wounds. "Crazy asshole." Timmy mutters.

"It'll be fine." she says, more worried for what Mr. Turner is going to do than what's already been done. It takes more time for Mr. Turner to speak. But when he does, he speaks calmly and rationally.

"Vicky… I want you to explain exactly why I shouldn't call the cops.I want you to tell me… why you love my son…"

This was what he wanted. An explanation. A reason for the madness that consumed his family. Exactly what she saw in Timmy that drew her to him.

"Because… he's Timmy." she chokes out. Such an awkward request has put her off balance. How do you explain that you love someone? For her, it seems there weren't enough pages in the world, not enough words in any language to describe it. But she has to, for her and Timmy's sake.

"He's… he's the best guy anyone could hope for. Courage. That doesn't… that doesn't even…" Vicky takes a deep breath as Timmy's dad waits patiently for an answer to convince him that what he's seeing is real, not the result of twisted lust and a brainwashed teen.

"He… he drove us here." Vicky starts. "All through the night, Timmy drove because I was losing blood. To make sure I was safe. He stood in front of the guy who did this to me… stood in front of a gun when most people would just shit their pants. He's braver than anyone I've met. More than me even. He stood there, staring down this psychotic jerk, ready to… ready to die even… and I couldn't let that happen. So I pushed Timmy out of the way and jumped at that jerk detective."

Mr. Turner shifts in his seat, crossing his legs and looking down at the floor.

" _The detective?"_ Timmy thinks. _"Why'd dad get so defensive?... does he know who that psycho is?"_

Vicky continues as Timmy ponders the enigma of their attacker. "And this… this silly twerp. He's smart. Smarter than most people give him credit for… he deserves a better life. So I told him to come here."

Mr. Turner swallows a breath. He turns to his son. "Is… that true?" he asks even though he already knows the answer by his son's steadfast behavior.

"Yeah. I was gonna stick it out with nothing left… didn't matter if we ended up homeless."

"You deserve more than that, twerp." Vicky replies. Timmy keeps quiet. There was no convincing her once she was determined she was right.

"Who… who was this detective?" Mr. Turner asks.

"He… called himself Frank. Frank Johnson." Timmy replies. His father stands up. He walks over to the kitchen. There's a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table, along with a plate of lukewarm pancakes and eggs, leftovers he didn't care enough to put in the fridge for the morning.

"And… he pointed a gun at you?" Mr. Turner asks, taking the whiskey bottle and guzzling a few shots at once.

"Yeah. Crazy asshole broke into our house. He was hurting Vicky when I jumped him. Like he was… punishing her."

Now it seems it's Mr. Turner's time to confess.

"I… when you first left, there were cops. Plenty of cops. And reporters. So called private investigators all leaving me their number. All of them promising to get you back. Vultures… But as the months went by… I didn't think they'd ever find you. I didn't think anyone could ever get you back. I was desperate…"

"… Dad?"

"I hired Frank Johnson."

The words linger in the air. Timmy suppresses a yell. The person who ruined everything, who nearly killed the two of them, was hired by his father.

"He promised that he'd find you. He was one of the highest rated investigators in the state. He said he'd never stop searching… when you called a few days ago, I panicked. And I called him right after."

"You… god damn it." Timmy says, dropping onto the chair as Vicky walks over to the kitchen table.

"You sent that _psycho_ after us?" she asks, her voice raising ever so slightly. She's angry again. The detective broke into their home, threatened to kill her, beat her senseless, and worst of all, he threatened Timmy.

"I didn't know what he would do." Mr. Turner says sternly. He wasn't going to argue with Vicky about who was in the wrong. As far as he is concerned, Vicky is just as responsible for the situation as he is.

"He said he would find my son… he never said he would point a gun at him."

"It was more than that." Timmy says. "He… he had a look in his eyes. When I stopped him from hurting Vicky, he kept the gun on me. And he just… had this look."

"He would have shot my twerp." Vicky responds.

Mr. Turner looks over at Vicky. "How… how do you know?"

"I've seen my fair share of psychos… I even learned to pretend to be them. Made it easier to push people away… but I can tell when someone's faking and when they're genuine. Their pupils… they dilate. They stare like wild gorillas. Waiting…"

Timmy's dad turns his head away. This insane day was proving to be far too much for all three of them. And as he hears her words he knows she speaks the truth. "You really do love him."

Timmy's dad takes another swig of whiskey, then plops it on the table. He was responsible for nearly getting his own son killed, and the one who stopped it from happening, even risking her own life, was Vicky. They love each other. And who was he? A man who left them together for most of his son's life just to try and put a few more months onto an already failed marriage.

"I'm sorry." he mutters, tears pouring down his face.

"I've… left your room the way it was." Timmy's dad says. "You and Vicky can stay for as long as you need."

"Thanks." Timmy says. He can see his dad's loneliness. And he can't deal with just standing there any longer.

"Whoa, ow, ow! Too tight, too tight!"

Timmy drags his dad into a hug. He hugs tighter than he's ever hugged anyone. Vicky stands up and stretches her legs. She takes a few deep breaths, calming down after the intense standoff. She leaves for Timmy's room, but not before yanking the bottle of whiskey and chugging a few shots. Timmy stays with his dad, embracing him until the tears have stopped.


	10. Chapter 10

Vicky pushes open the door to Timmy's room. His bed is set, but hasn't been used in years. The same old blanket and the same old bed, barely big enough for an adult, let alone Timmy and Vicky together. A thick coating of dust lies on everything. And right in the corner sits the two fish. Those strange bizarre, possibly immortal fish.

"Freaking weird." Vicky says.

Vicky drops onto the bed, which creaks and moans as she slips under the sheets. She coughs on a cloud of dust that flies into the air.

"Stupid vigilante crazy cop. Trying to kill me and my twerp."

Vicky tries to cuddle in by herself as she hears Timmy walk up the stairs with his dad.

"How long will you need to stay?" Mr. Turner asks.

"Don't know. Guess it depends on the statute of limitations. But probably a couple of years at least. We'll help around the house where we can."

"I'm sorry… I didn't know he'd-"

"It's alright, dad. I know you were just trying to save me."

His dad takes another deep breath as Timmy walks into his old room, carrying the clothes and few thousand dollars they have left. He drops their luggage on the floor and sits on the bed as his father goes back downstairs. Timmy is left in the room with Vicky. And everything he pushed to the back of his mind starts to come barreling back.

"Fuck." he mutters. "Just… shit."

He realizes how close they were to getting caught. He realizes how close they were to dying. And he begins to shake. Vicky brings him into her embrace.

"You did good, Timmy."

"We almost died." he gasps. "We almost… we almost died. You got… fuck."

"I got fuck?"

Vicky's attempt to lighten the mood doesn't work. Timmy simply shakes, almost silent, save for the occasional sniffle. The poor teen has been up nearly two days straight. And now he realizes the full weight of everything that's happened. He turns over and meets Vicky's gaze.

"I love you so much, Vicky." He cries out as he pulls in closer, holding tightly. Vicky grunts as Timmy pushes against her left arm, feeling him press against her side wound but keeps quiet, wrapping her unhurt arm around Timmy holding tight.

"I love you too, twerp."

Timmy and Vicky stay still silently, embraced in each other's warmth. They have lost all their savings. They have nowhere else to go and none of them could possibly find work under either of their identities. But now they're home again. Vicky and her twerp soon fall asleep, wrapped in each other's embrace.


End file.
